This is my entry for round 2, Renaissance Italy. quotes used are -"When I leave this world, I'll leave no regrets. Leave something to remember, so they won't forget I was here." - I WAS HERE, Beyonce, "I can't forget the day you left, time is so unkind. And life is so cruel without you here beside me." - UNBREAK MY HEART - Toni Braxton, "If God one day struck me blind, your beauty I would still see." - ADORE, Prince. I used the last picture- the dark haired girl without an animal.

November 5, 1437

I can hear them beyond the walls that separate us. Coughing and struggling for their very last breath. You know they are the dead walking. You can see it in their eyes; eyes that hold no hope. They know it is only a matter of time before they leave this world behind.

Maybe it is for the better? I know not. But I do know that they would be free; free from hunger, the suffering, and the poor that are dropping dead like flies. Their bodies clattering away on wagons being pulled along the cobbled streets. I almost envy them. It appears that our life is being cut short, and that we should all fall ill. To die in such a manner is something to dread, though I wonder if dying from childbirth is any better? As that is the fate of women: to marry and breed.

I know not the reasoning for this plague that sweeps across our lands like a foul wind, killing all in its dreadful stench. Some who have succumbed to it have festering sores on their bodies, which ooze blood and puss; some cough up blood until there is no more left. And in their final hours they blacken; like death. I have heard that it is a gruesome thing to watch. However, all that I have seen of it is what I can view from the windows of my home.

I am to be married soon. And I cannot help but to hope that my groom-to-be becomes ill, however cruel of me it is to wish such a thing. The man is old, nearly twice my age. He is boring, and only wants a woman who he can bed. Not a woman who knows how to read and write, who can think for herself. Perhaps it is the Great Plague that is causing my thoughts to grow so dark.

Conflicted as I am with my own inner turmoil. I still do not understand the cause for the plague, or the need for so much death. Is it punishment from God? That men's thoughts are shifting from God to their own achievements.

I know not.

"Signorina Lucia, the artista has arrived to paint your portrait."

Lucia placed down the quill and looked up at the girl who interrupted her.

"I will see him in my father's library," she said as she rose from her desk. Her red gown trailed behind her, following in her steps as she made her way to leave once her servant had gone. She was in no hurry to reach the library and took her time. Though when she did arrive, she saw that the artista was already there, standing in the room, his eyes roaming over the books.

"Like what you see?" Lucia asked as she entered, alerting him to her presence.

"Si, Signorina," Gurian said, smiling boyishly down at the young lady he was here to paint. "This is quite the collection." He glanced back at the books lined in shelves along the walls.

"My Papà is quite the collector. These are his valuable prizes," she said as she walked over to a book, running her hand down the spine and relishing how it felt. "Do you read, Gurian?"

~

Gurian was here to paint another portrait for Baron Bartolomeo. This must at least be his third marriage. He guessed the man was either lucky or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it. Though he didn't care as it meant he would be getting paid handsomely for his services again.

However, he wasn't expecting the spirited young lady before him, who had caught him off guard by knowing his name. And more so that she would address him so formally. It wasn't proper behavior for a lady, even less of a noble woman. Yet, that wasn't going to stop him from rising to the challenge.

"Everything is more beautiful because we are doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again," he spoke, staring into her eyes.

"Hateful to me as the gates of Hades is that man who hides one thing in his heart and speaks another."

"You know Homer?" Gurian asked, a bit surprised.

"Si." Lucia glided towards the chair and sat down. "Now, I believe you are here to paint my portrait."

Gurian set up his canvas and paint, unable to hide the smile tugging in the corners of his mouth. And as he began to work, he couldn't help but to keep staring at Lucia, sitting high and proud in her chair. She seemed so mysterious and young with her soft rounded face. While gazing at her, he focused on the light playing off her skin, showing shadows and depths that only the most crazed man would dream about finding the hidden meanings there. It was a shame that such a jewel would be wasted away to another loveless marriage.

~

Lucia was feeling uncomfortable with being gawked. Noble women were more than just trophies, well at least she thought so at any rate. So she spoke up from across the room, trying to distract his interest back to his art.

"Why do you paint?"

"When I leave this world, I'll leave no regrets. Leave something to remember, so they won't forget I was here," he said, putting down his brush. "This is why I paint, this is what it does for me. Don't you ever feel that way?"

There was a moment of silence before she spoke, " I am a woman, it would be foolish of me to think such a thing. We are here to walk in the shadows and fill men's needs. Then, to be forgotten. Why wish for things that will not change anything?"

"Because things are changing. Everywhere! You, yourself know how to read. Does that not say anything?"

"It says I am a fool. For what man wants a woman who has had such nonsensical ideas and thoughts running through her head?" She paused, wondering how much she dared to tell this man. But before she could say more, he spoke.

"A wise one," Gurian said as he gave her a pointed look.

"And do you think Baron Bartolomeo is a wise man?"

He turned his eyes back to his canvas, picking up his paintbrush.

"No, I do not."

~

November 7, 1437

An uninvited guest has arrived at our home. It was if all our attempts to keep the plague out was for naught. Little Cicilia has already died from it. And the rest of my family seems to be falling in line. So far, I have been kept safe, keeping to my room. I don't know how much time I have left before I become one of its victims, and I have never been more afraid than I am now.

However much I love and grieve my family, I do not want to die with them. Is that selfish of me, to seek for a chance to live while they die? I know not. But Gurian has offered me a way out. All I need to do is give him my papà's money; for the expenses of course.

I think the cause for my family's strife is my curse to suffer for the ill-will I wished upon the Baron Bartolomeo. Or maybe it is God's cruel way of answering my pleas. In either case, I feel I am to blame. How can I rejoice in my freedom while my family dies in agony? I am tormented. Is it wrong to steal my papà's money so that I may still have a chance to live? Though I must decide soon, for Gurian will be done with my portrait by tomorrow.

~

"Have you decided, Signorina Lucia?" Gurain said. "I can't keep Baron Bartolomeo waiting any longer. The painting is done." He put away his paint supplies and carefully covered up the canvas.

"Si, I have Papà's oro." Lucia reached into the slit in her gown, pulling out a pouch of coins.

"Then you'll leave with me, now? Just like we've talked about?" Gurian asked as he glanced at the bulging pouch of florin before meeting her eyes.

"I have your word, you promise to keep me safe?" Lucia asked, needing final reassurance that what she was about to do won't be for nothing.

"Si, I am a man of my words."

"Then I shall go with you," Lucia said as she followed Gurian out of her papà's library, and the villa. There was no need for goodbyes; her family was already gone. And her betrayal made her feel unworthy of seeing them on their deathbed. Likewise, there was no one around to prevent her from leaving.

The smell was the first thing she noticed when she stepped foot out on the open street, grimacing at the awful stench of the decaying bodies. It was intoxicating and overpowering. So much so, that she nearly turned around at that very moment.

"Mi dispiace, Lucia. I forgot how sheltered you have been of the plague. Here, take this," he said as he handed her the scented herbs that he had on him.

"Grazie," she muttered, taking the herbs and offering a faint smile. She wasn't as sure of herself as she once was, seeing the dead bodies being lined up along the streets or stacked in corners; it was unsettling.

"Come," he said gently with his hand held out for her to take, his eyes were bright and playful. "The moment is ours!"

She couldn't help but to grin fully at his grand gesture and his playful mannerisms. She placed her hand in his, feeling safe with him by her side as they ambled down the cobbled roads of Florence.

Merry men carried on, going from tavern to tavern in a drunken stupor, passing majestic structures that were left abandoned, columns standing with nothing to support, as the workers were either dead or gone; their bodies piled high in trenches dug in the already overfilled cemeteries. Black rats scattered along in the shadows and among the dead bodies, searching for food or shelter, she wasn't sure which. It was a horrific sight, and though the poor were a different sort of people to her, she felt slightly sorry for them. Seeing the dead had a sobering effect on her, made her no longer want to join them, but to live fully, and in the moment that was here, now.

Some of the men that were walking by or in the markets jested and cheered at them as they strolled through the streets. Lucia didn't make much of it with Gurian returning the greetings and flashing them a wink, thinking that perhaps they were friends of his. Every now and then though they would hear coughing coming from the direction they were going. Gurian would tug her closer into him, changing the course they were going to avoid the sick.

Lucia watched their shadows grow as the sun began to set, casting the last glowing rays of light before it would diminish. She was tiring from the walk, and from seeing the same scenes played out all over the city.

"Here we are, Lucia," Gurian said as he opened a door to a house.

"Is this where you live?" Lucia asked, looking up at him quizzically.

Gurian laughed heartily, "Bella ragazza, it is where I will live for the night."

"But the owners..."

"Are gone," he said, quieting her concern. "Sweet Lucia, I have been keeping you safe, have I not?" When he saw her nodding her head in agreement, he continued. "Do not worry about tomorrow, live for the day," he spoke, placing his palm against her cheek."However, if God one day struck me blind, your beauty I would still see. Lie with me tonight?"

~

Gurian waited for a response. He was fairly sure he already knew the answer, even though he saw the uncertainty dance across her eyes. And as he thought, they began to brighten while a small smile graced her lips.

He pulled her all the way inside, shutting the door behind. Without wasting any more time than that, he took her to the bed. It was a beautiful; chestnut with decorative designs inlaced with ebony. Sitting her down, he took off the thin wire netting over her hair and undid the braid, watching her long dark hair splayed freely down her back and tumbling over her shoulders.

"Will you let me see the masterpiece behind what I had painted?" Gurian asked, looking into her eyes.

"Si," Lucia whispered, her eyes never leaving his.

He pulled off her gown, followed by the linen chemise, guiding it over her body and tossing it to the side. Then let his fingers rest on her shoulders, gliding them down her back as he removed her braise. Gazing at the rounded perfection of her breasts, he whispered his words from earlier, "beautiful girl," as he slowly and steadily inched the hose down her legs, letting his fingers delight in touching every curve.

"You would have been wasted on a man like Baron Bartolomeo," he said, kissing her.

~

December 1, 1439.

I can't forget the day you left, time is so unkind. And life is so cruel without you here beside me. The reason for why you left me I do not know. I must have been truly naive. You took my papà's florin leaving me with nothing but the painting. Although, that is not completely true. You left a part of you growing inside of me. Gurian, you have a daughter. She has your carefree smile and your passion for life, even though she is only nearly two years of age.

I had become one of those who I use to look down upon: a poor person. To survive for me and my child I went to work in wool textile. My once smooth hands have become calloused and tinted with color from the dyes. I don't mind too much. I remind myself that it is for Cicilia, it is what I named her after my little sister.

I think I am glad my little sister never got the chance to meet you. She would have fallen for your charms, then been heartbroken when you left. Sometimes I wondered what would have happened if I had never met you, but I guess it matters little. It would not change what is.

Papà has survived the plague; I have seen him with my own eyes. However, I could never go speak to him, not after what I had done. I am happy he appears to be doing well for himself. I should have known that a man like that would not have been so easily defeated.

This will be my last entry, for I have run out of pages to write on. Honestly, I do not know why I bother. Perhaps it is as you said, Gurian. I too want to leave something to be remembered by.

I hope that whoever should come across this does not think too unkindly of me. I did what I could in the circumstances I was given. I am human and I make mistakes. However, I hold no regrets. All of this has led me to my wonderful loving daughter.